


joy of life

by lackingsoy



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: M/M, Pre-Canon, Pre-Relationship, all i remember is how gay these mfs are, and the power kevin has within themselves to Heal and Grow and Digest riko into reusable energy, andrew: i just think he's neat, andrew: i'm looking respectfully, anyways its helium by glass animals, i actually had to look at my tumblr to figure out what witch song made me write this, in the holy realm of, this is about precious resiliency i think, your honor they do be dancing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-19 10:22:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29624826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lackingsoy/pseuds/lackingsoy
Summary: In Andrew’s knowledge, Kevin Day doesn’t approach anything quite the same way he approaches Exy.
Relationships: Kevin Day/Andrew Minyard
Comments: 2
Kudos: 16





	joy of life

**Author's Note:**

> 'm never gonna finish this so here you go. enjoy your gay little men. thanks for the fun times

He dances like the air can’t move him, not with its loose nets and dead ends. A long flame shimmering to life in a court of dirty grinding and glossy strobe lights and fresh sweat. A flicker, a flaunt, and green eyes catching purples and blues. The strobe lights swing across his thighs, arching offshoots over his hands, and Kevin shudders in the smoky midst of it like he might undulate into oblivion. 

Or something close to it. In this light, nobody knows who he is or what he was. 

In Andrew’s knowledge, Kevin Day doesn’t approach anything quite the same way he approaches Exy. Kevin Day doesn’t work the floor like the next beat is his last shot. Kevin Day doesn’t dance like he’s got everything to lose. Kevin Day is not so much the twin prince of court as he is its creature, breath and lungs and blood and all.

So maybe that's what makes this surprising, nonpareil like: Kevin dancing like it's the only thing in the world that can make him come alive. Like it's the only thing capable of holding him. It's an oddity, odd mostly in the juxtaposition, but Andrew sits, and he watches.

A singularity, he thinks. No. Kevin losing it on the floor makes sense the way he lost it on the court. But it is slower, less chilling, more tenderizing. Like finding breath on the way. Like actually taking it. Like finally letting a stiputing thing go.

Andrew watches as Kevin throws back a smile, all non-concern and challenge; a thing that was, by all accounts, unrealistic for a hardly inebriated Kevin. Andrew saw him down three shots before heading off after Nicky. Maybe the man is feeling brave, maybe he is feeling hot, maybe he is feeling enough like an anomaly to forget the specifics. 

(The anomaly, specifically: Riko’s Two. There is the forgetting, the impossible to forget, and then there is non-recognition. Riko was unmistakable and immalleable in Kevin's mind--)

The number almost disappears into neon orange when Kevin throws his head back to the ceiling. A hideous blight along the curvature of his face. Black and orange, awashed. 

(--and so it is a never thing, to forget him, but there is some kind of a victory, unrecognizable as that is, in this near thing. In Kevin Day, being so involved in his own skin.)

Some kind of rebellion.

It is a good look on him, Andrew decides, this kind of unrepentant partaking, and by the time the thought settles neatly into the back of his teeth he’s already slid from his stool and weaving into the grind of the dance floor. 


End file.
